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Chad Butters is Bringing Back the Tradition of the Farmer Distiller, One Acre at a Time

Visiting distilleries all over the country,
I'm inadvertently learning a lot about US history. I don't mean facts such as
the date of Washing crossing the Delaware (I've crossed over the Delaware River
plenty of times, and have never thought it a particularly noteworthy
achievement. Making it from Exit 1 on the New Jersey Turnpike to the
interchange with the Parkway, however, in under two hours should be commemorated.) I mean
more of what would be called "social history," or just how plain
folks lived.

For instance,
it's hard to imagine from the vantage of the present, but a century ago, the
majority of people made their living from farming - or otherwise relied on it for food.
What most people don't know -and I only learned from speaking with folks
who've studied the history of distilling- is that farmers almost always had
surplus crops that would spoil unless found another use. Fermenting and then distilling grains or fruit not only created an imperishable
product, but one that had considerably greater value, by weight, than what went
into them.

Back then,
you could find a distiller where ever there was a farm. So it is by
happenstance that I now find a farm where there is a distiller. Specifically,
Chad Butters ofEight Oaks Craft
Distillers.

I enter the
barn-like structure (clearly of new construction) and am greeted by bartender
Alexis along with a chorus of guys at the far end of the bar. They are
enjoying mules, they let it be known, and I give credit to Alexis and Eight
Oaks for not succumbing to the copper mug gimmick. These guys get glass
tumblers just like everyone else.

Alexis is
really fun to talk to. She studied event planning at a local college, worked
for a hotel, briefly, before finding her calling running the tasting
room here. She does a hell of a job. Alexis has no problem holding her own
with the rough-and-tumble, but good-natured, locals while walking me through
the basics of the distillery.

Next, I meet
Logan the distiller, who may be even younger than Alexis. I like his energy and
immediately get the sense that he is a man who learns through trial and error.
He tells me of a garage on the property he converted into a malter - all from
watching Youtube videos. Strangely, it doesn't seem like any of Eight Oaks'
spirits uses malted barley. They do have the basics of the spirits spectrum
covered: rum, rye, bourbon, vodka, gin and -in keeping with local tradition-
applejack.

Alexis pours
me rum first. It is 80 proof, made from Caribbean molasses. The nose has the
sweetness characteristic of rum, followed by wood and vanilla on the finish.
The palate is not too sweet, finishing on a bit of anise.

Eight Oaks
rye is 80 proof and comes from a 90% rye, 10% corn mash. It takes between four
to six days to ferment, and goes through Eight Oaks' 170 gallon copper pot
still twice. It is then aged in new oak. The sample I try has been aged one
year, even though the distillery wants to age it for two. The nose has a bright
chemical element, like a newly polished wood floor, ending on a floral note.
The palate is a creamy and herbal spice, with a medium burn on the
finish.

The bourbon
is aging for eight months, so won't be released until June. I don't get to try
any.

When I chat
with Chad after my tasting, he is very proud that his vodka comes completely
from local soft red winter wheat. There are too many distilleries that buy
neutral grain spirits from elsewhere, run it through their still and some
charcoal trays, and call it a day. Eight Oaks hooks up two very large columns
to their pot still, to ensure the vodka is as clean as can be, before charcoal
filtering twice. The result is a nose subtly of white grape and grass. The
palate is also grassy with a sweet finish.

Most distilleries that make a vodka will also
try their hand at gin, since it requires the extra step of getting the
botanicals into the already-distilled vodka. Eight Oaks is no different, in
that respect. Their gin is 84 proof,
four-times distilled and is infused with lemongrass, orange peel, coriander, orris root and juniper. Due to the way different organic molecules interact with alcohol, some of the higher maintenance botanicals have to be macerated
and steeped in the distillate before the final distillation, while others will infuse by simply hanging out in a basket placed in the still’s column. The alcohol
vapor picks up the flavor of the botanicals by passing through the basket.

Eight Oak’s gin is described as a “New American
style” because it plays up citrus notes at the expense of juniper. The nose
still has a distinctive pine scent, but the palate bursts with citrus, clove
spice and finishes on an intriguing black tea.

Alexis fetches Chad from the back in time for me
to try the applejack. He explains how their decision to make applejack was
unavoidable for a number of reasons. Chad has close relationships with the
several farmers from who he obtains grain, including the one, Kevin, to whom he
leases out the distillery land. These farmers have apple orchards and press the
apples into juice for Chad to ferment and distill at Eight Oaks. With sources
so eager and generous, and Chad being the gracious guy that he is, he could
hardly say “no.” The other reason, not that he needs one, is Chad’s sense of
continuity with that local history I mentioned above.

Apples have been grown in this part of
Pennsylvania since it was settled by Europeans. Distilled apples were soon to
follow. In keeping with tradition, Chad distills his apple jack twice through a
brandy still, which is a smaller version of his copper pot still, and closer to
what Colonialist farmers would have used.

Eight Oaks applejack is 80 proof. It has a nose
of –surprisingly- apples, accompanied by pleasant citrus and floral notes. The
palate is deep and sour. Think of granny smith apples cooked down with brown
sugar. It finishes a bit bready and tart. That could be the crust for your pie.

Chad is keen to mention that about 30% of the
grains they use are grown on their land, thanks in large part to Kevin. That percentage
should increase soon, and include an apple orchard, as they cultivate more of
their twenty-two acre parcel.

I imagine I’m not different from most people
growing up within one hundred miles of a body of water, in that I have not met
many farmers. That said, I feel confident adding that Chad does not fit the
mold. His vision for his distillery is not only far-reaching but precise in
strategy. When he talks about wrestling wild fields into farmland or orchard
one acre at a time, I can’t help but picture an army of tractors, led by Chad
the general. So it makes perfect sense when Chad tells me he is a retired
career soldier, having served in the army for twenty-five years.

Whereas I’m sure the farmers’ lives of
yesteryear synched up with nature’s rhythms –seasons, sunsets and sunrises,
gestation of their livestock- this modern-day farmer before me has more of a
rigid order necessary for battle. It certainly works for him and Eight Oaks’
success so far. If I come back in a couple years, I expect to see rows of corn
and wheat leading right up to the Eight Oaks' doors – and maybe even Chad atop
a tractor.

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